


You Don't Have to Suffer Alone

by Ellimac



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellimac/pseuds/Ellimac
Summary: After rescuing the Master from the alternate dimension he was stranded in, the Doctor tries to have a heart-to-heart. (Or a hearts-to-hearts?)
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 168





	You Don't Have to Suffer Alone

The TARDIS juddered back into existence, no worse for the wear from her trip into another reality. In the console room, Yaz paced, her hands tight behind her back to keep them from shaking; Ryan sat in a chair, gripping the armrests; and Graham simply held on tight to the console, eyes tight shut. Only the Doctor seemed enthused, dashing around and flipping switches, gently moving Graham to one side or the other when he was in the way. It was only when she’d done this three times that she looked around at her companions, seeming to notice them for the first time.

“It’s all right,” she said. “We’ve made it back.”

Yaz stopped pacing. “Yes, I got that. But I don’t understand, Doctor.”

The Doctor straightened up and stared at her. “Don’t understand what?”

“Why did we do it?” Yaz took a step closer, then turned and started to pace again. “Why did we go and rescue the Master? If anyone deserved to be stuck in that place forever, it was him.”

The Doctor waved a hand, as if nonchalant, but her expression didn’t quite match. “He’d have done the same for me.”

Yaz, Graham, and Ryan all spoke at the same time. “No he wouldn’t.”

The Doctor sucked in a breath through her teeth, bobbed her head, and admitted, “All right, no, he wouldn’t. But maybe in his last incarnation… anyway, it’s not important. We didn’t exactly _rescue_ him, anyway. More of a prison transfer.”

Yaz looked at he, skepticism written across her face. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. The Doctor ducked her head, and turned back to the console, though she was no longer pressing buttons, just leaning against it.

“All right,” she said. “Before he was my enemy, he was my friend. I’ve never forgotten that, and neither has he. Besides… there’s something I need to talk to him about.”

“At least let us go with you,” Ryan said. “In case he tries something.”

But the Doctor shook her head. “This is something I’ve got to do alone. It’s personal. Besides, I’ll be perfectly safe. You all stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looked up and gave a fairly convincing smile. But after she left the room, the three companions looked at each other, completely unconvinced by it.

\--

The Doctor strode down a corridor, coat flapping behind her. She hadn’t known where to put the Master when she first had the idea to pick him up; after all, if he were too close to the console room, the others might find him, and if he were too far away, she wouldn’t be able to easily check up on him. In the end, she let the TARDIS decide, and she had put him down two corridors, up one flight of stairs and down two more, behind the third door in a hall that looked completely nondescript. Easy enough for the Doctor, but difficult enough that the others wouldn’t be able to find him.

Still, as she reached the door in question, she hesitated. She had rescued the Master, yes, but it was also true that she had essentially exchanged one prison for another. The only difference was that he wasn’t as alone here. And it was smaller, though given the enormous dimensions of that other reality, it would be hard not to be. And it was probably easier to escape…

Now, that wouldn’t do. She sucked in a breath and knocked on the door.

There was no response. She leaned against the wall beside the door and said, “Come on, I won’t open it until you tell me I can come in.”

It took a few moments, but at last, the door swung open silently. And there he was, trying and failing not to look frazzled. His hair was falling into his eyes, and he had taken his jacket off, revealing once-white sleeves that were now stained and dirty. He stood with one hand still on the door, staring at the Doctor, his expression unreadable.

Well, almost unreadable. She had known the Master a long time. He only went this blank when he was trying to hide something.

“Well?” he said. “You’ve come here to gloat, have you?”

The Doctor shook her head. “I came here to check on you, actually.”

“Oh, is that all? Well, I’m fine. Trapped in my room like a naughty schoolboy, locked away by my best enemy in a prison no better than the one I was in hours ago—I’m perfectly fine, Doctor. Thank you _so_ much for asking.”

“Why did you do it?” the Doctor said. “Try to kill me? The only other Time Lord left?”

The Master grinned his unhinged grin. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to be the last.”

“No,” the Doctor said flatly. “You didn’t.”

His grin disappeared.

“You don’t know what it feels like,” she continued. “To be truly the last of your species. To know that you are well and truly and completely alone. I do. No one wants that. Not even you.”

The Master didn’t say anything. His face returned to the blank expression that meant he didn’t want the Doctor to know what he was feeling.

“I saw it,” the Doctor said, after a few more moments of silence. “Gallifrey. I saw it. I got your message.”

For a moment, the Master’s composure slipped. “You went there?”

The Doctor nodded. “I don’t know why… you did what you did. I know you won’t tell me. But I wanted you to know that I saw it.”

The Master trembled for a moment, then turned away. “Why are you really here, Doctor?”

The Doctor took a step forward, her toes just barely in the doorway, causing a slight crackle against the forcefield she had set up. “May I come in?”

The Master didn’t turn around to look at her, but he nodded his head once. She took a step forward, causing the forcefield to crackle more. But it wasn’t calibrated to her; it was only reacting to her because she was a Time Lord. If the Master tried to go through it, he would be met with a solid wall.

“Master,” the Doctor said softly, “I know you don’t want to tell me what you saw. You don’t have to. But I do need you to know something.”

He turned to her, and she saw that he was shaking. With anger? With the effort of holding back tears? It was impossible to tell. “And what, exactly, is that?”

“You don’t have to suffer alone,” the Doctor said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like I did.”

Perhaps it was his already fragile state. Perhaps it was the reminder of the fate of Gallifrey. Perhaps it was, for the first time in a long time, being alone in a room with his best enemy again. But whatever it was, the Master’s face crumpled, and he turned away just slowly enough that the Doctor saw the first tear fall. She took a step forward, but the Master held his hand out to stop her.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t you dare.”

“You know I never listen to you,” the Doctor said, and took another step, so that she was close enough to put her arm around his shoulder.

It was hard, seeing him like this. Hard to know that he was going through the same thing she had gone through, all those centuries ago, when she had been the one to destroy Gallifrey. She held him until he turned to bury his face in her shoulder, sobbing silently with his fists clenched. She stroked his hair, pressed her cheek against his, and simply held him until the sobs ran out. And after that, she kept holding him, the two of them standing in almost comfortable silence.

Finally, the Master said, “Get out of my room, Doctor.”

She let go of him and stepped back. He looked at the floor, refusing to look at her face, or anywhere near her.

“All right,” she said. “But if you’re lonely, you know how to contact me.”

He said nothing. Silently, she backed out of the room, keeping her eyes on him until she was through the forcefield. When she had gone several steps down the corridor, she heard the door slam. Only then did she stop, swaying on her feet.

“Oh, Master,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

With that, she straightened up and headed back down the corridor, back to the console room, where her companions waited. And if the spring wasn’t quite back in her step by the time she got there, well…

Well.

Perhaps one day she’d be able to explain.

Images of a destroyed Gallifrey and the Master’s distraught face flashed through her mind. The idea of explaining what had happened, her real history with Gallifrey and the Master, made her steps waver.

Perhaps one day she could explain. But for now…

She plastered on a smile as she stepped back into the console room. For now, it was time for the next adventure.


End file.
